Son and Lover Pt. 01

Anal

Although this is basically a mom and son incest story I’ve digressed a bit to try and make it more interesting. You can, if you wish, skip round the diversions if you find the story is too long. Inspiration for parts of the story came from YouTube.

Christmas is always a bad time of year. Nine years ago dad died, two weeks before Christmas. He was working flat out, as a HGV driver, trying his hardest to cope with the demands of British shoppers buying the latest toys, games and electronics for their children. His lorry journeys took him north, south, east and west of the UK mainland for a nationwide chain of stores.

That fateful day the fog on the motorway was patchy. People were driving way too fast and his lorry was in the middle of a horrific pile-up caused by a sudden dense fog patch. There was a fire which spread to the cab. Someone managed to get him out, and although the paramedics and hospital tried their very best to deal with the smoke inhalation, head injury and burns he suffered, sadly he only lived for two days after the crash.

I was 13 then, my sister was 12. Mom never got over the trauma of losing the man she loved so much. Thankfully she managed to find work herself and time slowly eased her sorrow but every Christmas season that went by brought back memories.

I’m Christopher by the way. Kenny, my dad, and mom Mary had been childhood friends. Their friendship eventually became a relationship. They married when he was 22, mom just a few months younger. They’d had precious little time to digest the wedding meal when mom became pregnant. I popped out from the very place dad had popped in, just 10 months after the register had been signed. In exactly the same way, Angela arrived just 15 months later.

Mom occasionally spoke about their long time together, especially as I got older and able to understand. This was usually when sis was out and I was home from university. Up to leaving school and starting university I tried my best to be the man of the house, odd bits of DIY, gardening, decorating, small repairs – anything to save a bit of money. My ‘payment’ was the odd treat, a bit of extra spend and always a hug from mom. Angela helped mom shop, clean, cook etc., and together we managed well as a family.

Such was the deep love between mom and dad, mom found it very difficult to find a new partner. She’s beautiful – always was, and still is now (OK, I may be prejudiced, but just ask any of my friends. Mom is very much a looker).

She was and still is popular and a friend to everyone, especially when they were in need. It was no surprise then that friends and relatives rallied round after the tragedy to ensure mom was looked after. But people have their own problems and their support gradually became less and less.

Immediately after dad’s death mom would cry, sometimes for an hour, sometimes longer. I remember giving mom a cuddle many times, her tears wetting my shoulder. I guess it was just my way of trying to offer support, but we became very close.

It was when I was around 17 that she began telling me in any detail about their life together. This was often when she felt down, especially during the long dark nights leading up to Christmas. It was always about their love, their life together, never about sex or any temporary relationships she had with men since his death.

By the time I had my offer to study medicine (though I hadn’t then decided exactly what), Angie had been studying office skills. Although never an enthusiastic scholar, Angie was more than capable to do secretarial work, and had the ability to eventually become a Personal Assistant, a PA to a department manager or executive. Although intelligent, she just hated school and left with a handful of GCSE’s. Money was tight and had been for some time. Every available grant and bursary was applied for. I got my chosen university.

The end of my first semester at university coincided with the anniversary of dad’s untimely death. I was 19 then, having had my 18th celebration in October of the year before. The party was low budget – Angie and me, a few friends and a small supply of alcohol, nibbles, and a birthday cake, baked and iced in the shape of a pair of boobs.

That Christmas break, on my return from the Hall of Residence (university accommodation), mom hugged me like I’d been away for years.

“I’ve missed you a lot,” she admitted, “More than you’ll ever realise.”

“And I’ve missed you too.” That was the absolute truth. I’d missed her warmth, her smile and, yes, her excellent cooking. I’d also missed our little chats. I’d missed her taking less caution with how little she walked around the house in. Oh, and most of all I missed her hugs.

Unexpectedly, she turned my head and kissed me full on the lips. “That’s for being such a wonderful son,” she said. The kiss lasted just a little longer than it ought.

“You’ve been wonderful to me too,” I replied, “Helping me get to university, washing, cleaning and cooking for me.”

I really didn’t know why, but I returned the kiss. It female agent porno was never a sexual kiss, though it also lasted a few moments longer than necessary. I was aware, too, of that butterfly feeling – like you get when you go out with a girl the first time. Hell, strike that. It WAS a sexual kiss, who am I trying to fool?

I remember that mom had her hands around my waist at that time. She lowered them, squeezing my butt to her. I pulled her closer to me. This was more than a hug, I was becoming aroused. Mom and I were becoming even closer.

Hell, I wondered if I, being older, had an attraction to mom, or if was the other way round. Maybe it was mutual. And just after my 18th, my coming of age, why was the bathroom door always open if mom was in the shower and Angie wasn’t around? OK, I’ll admit to you now I did take that opportunity to stand a while and look.

I’m quite sure you don’t mind me telling you what I saw. Despite the slight misting of the shower cubicle, mom seemed intent on giving me a free show. Neither blonde nor brunette but halfway between, mom’s hair was around shoulder length. Her brown eyes, rounded face and perpetual smile (except of course when her thoughts were on dad), guaranteed a second look. What all my friends never saw were her beautiful, still flawless breasts, each topped with mid brownish-pink plump nipple. Even though her excellent cooking always deserved a second helping, mom managed to always keep her figure. Perhaps slightly overweight, nevertheless the curves were almost where they should be. What I saw most of all was her bare butt, rounded to perfection.

Occasionally I dared spy on her when she was turned towards me. Very occasionally, and I think this was one of my little treats, I got to see her carefully shave all her pussy hair. That really was special and she never ever lifted her eyes to check if I was spying.

Oh shit. I guess I got sidetracked. Where was I? Ah, yes. Mom grabbed my butt, I pulled her to me, got a semi … and now it’s rock hard. It’s about time I escaped.

“I think I’d better get unpacked,” was my feeble excuse to pull away. I saw her quickly glance at the front of my pants. She said nothing.

I’d travelled the 120 or so miles back from university by train then bus. Even with my student discount I could barely afford it. I picked up my backpack and holdall and made to go up to my room.

“I’ll fix you something to eat.” Mom said as I was just closing the lounge door. She knew exactly what my priorities were.

“Thanks mom.” Mom really was my rock … and sometimes the rock in my pocket.

We ate the best meal meal I’d had for weeks. I cleared the table and went to wash the dishes.

“It’s only fair,” I said. “You cooked, I clean.”

Of course, being mom, she kind of ignored that, coming though to the kitchen to ensure all was clean and put away where it belonged.

“Mom, I’ve been away barely 3 months. I haven’t lost the ability to wash dishes.”

“Yes, and I missed you a lot.”

She came up behind me, squeezing my butt for the second time.

“You have been there for me all the while since dad died.”

I detected the sadness in her voice. The anniversary of the crash was imminent. She left my butt alone to put her arms round my waist.

I was suddenly aware that her breasts were pressing against my back. She kissed the back of my neck and sent goosebumps up my spine. Why the fuck was I getting a woody again?

I turned around, soap suds on my hands. Mom and I kissed again. That kiss was real. Her breasts were pressed tightly against me, her hips pushed into mine. She knew I was getting hard. The fact that I pushed back was wrong. Again it was me that broke away.

“I’ve got to get these finished,” I said, flustered and embarrassed.

“I really have missed you,” she said, emotion in her voice.

The dish washing finished, I went back upstairs, sorted out my clothes. If they weren’t tidily put away, mom would grouse. I dumped the dirties in the linen basket.

I remember feeling relieved when, come 5.30, Angie arrived home. She was settled in a new job, a junior secretary with a small legal partnership. It was the office Christmas party that evening. Showered, changed and with her usual blend of generously applied war paint she was almost ready to go out. Whilst waiting for her lift she tipped back the equivalent of a double vodka and lime. The weird UK alcohol laws permitted (at 17) an alcoholic drink with her meal, but only beer, cider or wine. The vodka ensured she’d enjoy the party.

That evening I was alone again with mom. Around 8 o’ clock I was sat on the sofa watching a documentary on TV. Mom got a bottle of rosé wine from the fridge, poured us each a glass full.

“So, how did your course go?”

“Great mom, I’m still deciding what speciality. I may well look at alternative therapies as well as conventional medicine.”

“Oh? What does that include?”

“Its popularity is on the increase over here. female fake taxi porno The French have used it for a while; treat the whole body, rather than the obvious symptoms. There’s s whole boatload of other stuff too. Hypnotherapy, reflexology, massage, herbals, the list goes on.”

“And you’ll decide later?”

“Yes. As long as I do the core work, it should all be OK.”

“So why this alternatives stuff.”

Mom believed if you were ill you always saw your GP.

“Ever use a dock leaf if you got nettled?”

“Yes, sure.”

“And it doesn’t come from a pharmacy?”

‘No. Oh, I see, nature’s balm to sooth nature’s sting.”

I knew it was far more complex than that.

“I was talking to one of the other guys in my Hall. He’s doing psychology. Hypnotherapy is just part of that. I went to one of his lectures when I had free time.”

Mom topped up the wine. We talked on. I decided to record the repeat of the documentary to watch later. Mom switched the channel to a period romance drama. The tv played away to itself as we talked.

She filled our glasses for a third time and the empty went in the recycle box. It was usually full. She put her hand on my thigh.

“You were too young, Chris, for me to tell you much about me and dad. You’re older now. You’ll understand.”

I got Chris when mom was cool about things, Christopher when I was in bother.

“What kind of things?” I was curious.

Mom was starting to slur her words a little. She brought the second bottle of rosé from the fridge, Mateus Rosé, her favourite.

“I miss his touch, cuddling in bed. I’m sure you know what I mean by now.”

I did, but not much. All through school I had studied hard. Girls came second.

“You sure you want to talk about this, mom?”

“A woman has needs as well as a man.”

She moved her hand further up my leg. Now, don’t get me wrong, mom and I got on great but there was never anything sexual before. I felt uncomfortable and mom was tipsy.

“I’m sure you can find someone now that Angie and I aren’t bugging you.”

Mom remained silent. I took the plunge and put my hand under her sweater.

“Tom, no.” She pushed my hand away.

I was confused. I apologised and changed the subject.

“I said I’d ring Andy, one of my school friends.” It was an excuse. I could have phoned him any time.

*****

Over the next few days, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. There was more than a hint of sexual in the kisses, the touches on my butt and my thigh, the goosebumps, yet as soon as I touched mom, she pulled away. And what about the times the bathroom door had been accidentally been open? Christmas came and went. Mom was very much just mom and nothing more was said.

We watched the fireworks together at midnight on New Year’s Eve, mom’s freezing cold hand clinging onto mine outside our local pub.

A week later was Angie’s 18th. With far more friends than me Angie’s party was a bigger affair. One of the larger pubs offered a room for free, easily making the event worthwhile by providing the food and drink. With a girl / boy ratio of 5 to 1 it would have been easy to get off with several of Angie’s friends.

There was one school friend of hers, a couple of months older than sis who I’d seen regularly at our house. Very fuckable, big tits, gorgeous ass, short skirt and long legs. She’d slept over at ours and surely had seen me drool, bending over at any excuse to test if my sex reflexes were working. Cleavage almost down to her navel, she certainly caught my eye at the party.

We got talking, that was all. I bought her a drink, an expensive cocktail, in return for a long grope and a kiss, measuring a perfect ten, in a corner of that busy party room, and a blow-job after I’d rubbed her off in the darkness of the alley next to smoking area behind the pub.

Her intense, very erotic, almost earthy cunt scent was ingrained under my fingernails until well into the following day. Had I not been returning to university we would have met up later and fucked.

My feelings towards mom never altered at all, though my plans how I would get to sample mom’s cunt scent and maybe fuck her hadn’t yet hatched.

The thought was still stuck there, back again at the Halls of Residence. There had been times when I had lusted over mom. Hell, any guy would. She was way pretty, shapely but not as shapely as some. A pretty face, ample breasts and a butt to die for. Who was I fooling? And hell, what had I forgotten? I’d had a very real woody and by her touch alone; the touch of her lips on mine, her hands on my butt, touching my leg.

Mom certainly had a pair of boobs. Guys looked when we were shopping in the mall. But why wouldn’t she let me go there?

I thought long and hard. I’d fucked up my chance. Yes, I’d had girlfriends and a real potential of more as a student. But had I missed my chance? Was mom giving me signals or was she just still missing dad over Christmas. And why no takers to substitute glory hole secrets porno for dad, given her charm, honesty, smile and figure? There was something very wrong.

*****

I liked the idea of being able to wander into someone else’s lectures. OK, I had a real interest in alternatives to powerful drugs. I enjoyed the hypnotherapy lectures. We started messing around in the HR apartments some evenings. One of the psychology guys was really good at it and I found it an excellent way to relax. He did the fun trick, convincing me an onion was an apple.

“Chris, taste this really juicy red apple. It really makes your mouth water.”

“3 – 2 – 1 wide awake.” I heard his fingers click and came out of trance with the really sour taste of the onion in my mouth. The big bite out of the onion in my hand convinced me what I’d done.

“You asshole, ” I retorted.

He grinned. “I couldn’t make you eat the onion, but I could convince you it was a juicy apple. Remember that. Hypnosis is a great persuasion tool.”

He hypnotised me several times after that, having promised he wouldn’t take the piss … although on reflection if he HAD taken the piss, it would have tasted like orange juice. I learned a lot from him and from the lectures.

Jump forward. Four girls, two guys enjoying a drink at favourite student bar.

“Can you really?”

“Sure. I’ve been sitting in on the lectures and Bob taught me the rest.”

“And did he hypnotise you?”

“Yes, the twat got me believing this onion was a juicy apple.”

“Really?”

“Really. It took me a bloody day to lose the taste.”

They almost pissed themselves laughing.

“Can you do the stuff like on YouTube, like when those hypnotists make a girl cum?”

“I’ll take a look. If you’re game, I could try!”

“Piss off. Not us.”

“So you ask me, then you chicken? Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

For the rest of the evening the girls kept whispering, nudging, giggling.

“OK, I said in the end. I’ll look it up, and if any of you volunteer I’ll stand her a drink.’

“Tequila?”

“Whatever.”

It was a long week. I watched, studied, practiced what I was going to say. We met up, same bar, same time.

“OK, I’ll have a go. It might work, it might not. Volunteer please?”

“I watched it on YouTube,” said Kim, at 20, the eldest of the four. “It’s all an act. The woman just played along.”

“Well I think it’s real,” said Tracy, “Or she’s a damned good actress. But I’m not going first.”

The other two weren’t going to comment, but I’d bet my student union card they’d like to try.

“OK, Kim. You’re the doubter. If it’s all an act then you won’t be hypnotised and you won’t have an orgasm. But if you’re wrong … well you could enjoy it.”

“Yes, Kim. You don’t believe it. You’ve nothing to lose,” said Tracy. The others agreed.

Kim had been cornered, and she was always the first to accept a challenge. “OK,” she finally agreed. “But just the six of us there.”

That was fine by me. All six of us met up at my pad the following Wednesday evening.

“OK Kim,” I began. “It’s not going to work for you, but just clasp your hands together,” I demonstrated, “Like this.”

Tracy had obviously been thinking about it.

“Chris, do you mind if I join in?”

“I don’t mind. Which are you needing most, the orgasm or the free drink?”

“Both,” said Tracy, without a moment’s thought.

“Right, you don’t have to not concentrate on your hands, but when you do you’ll not find that your hands are not becoming tighter together. And it so relaxing just not to think … et cetera, the double negative induction.

A few more moments and I could see both pairs of eyes glazing over. Quite soon they would close.

“And as you relax so deeply your hands come unstuck and you just let your arms drop as you relax even deeper.”

OK so you don’t need the full script but little by little both girls sank into a deep hypnotic trance and I could sense that Kim was the most receptive of the two. I was going to give her the full works.

“When I tap you on the shoulder you’ll open your eyes. Whenever I click my fingers you’ll do as I say, but ONLY if you want it to happen.”

I stressed to them both it would be optional. All I was going to do was release inhibitions and stimulate their imagination. I didn’t want the police knocking at the door, nor a law suit. I wanted it to be fun for all of us.

*Tap* “Wide awake.”

*Click* “You can feel tickles on your legs, (pause ) your arms, (pause) your back (pause) your tummy (pause).”

Both girls started giggling.

*Click* “More tickles, (pause), tickles all over, (pause) tickles getting stronger … and stronger.”

Both girls were laughing, almost to tears.

*Click* “Now those tickles turn to pleasure tickles, little tickles in the most pleasurable places.” I emphasised pleasurable.

The look on the girls faces said it all.

*Click* “And every time you feel a touch on your arms or legs the pleasure tickles get stronger. Your breasts, your pussy will feel very pleasant, very arousing tickles.”

I let Jane do the honours first, touching Kim’s arm several times. The effect was amazing, Kim pushing her chest forward as if someone was tracing invisible hands all over and around her nipples and her breasts.

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